


at arm's length

by kocuria



Series: the Winter drabbles [10]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Depression, Headspace, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Multiple Personalities, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kocuria/pseuds/kocuria
Summary: “But it’s not a choice at all, in the end,” Winter says. “I know. I- he promised I'll always get a say. I don’t want to end up paralyzed, you know. You say I’m a kitten, but I’m more deadly than a full STRIKE team put together - you know that, you’veseenthat. If there’s a need for these skills? I’ll use them, I want to beableto use them if - when - that time comes.”-The one with arm trouble.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Winter, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Winter
Series: the Winter drabbles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805338
Comments: 130
Kudos: 276





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, this thing ran away from me like [a crazed llama.](https://giphy.com/gifs/cheezburger-deal-with-it-sheep-B9NG8QJWN6pnG)
> 
> Note: there isn't and there won't be a Civil War in this 'verse, cause, just, no. I'll solve the Howard Stark problem once we get to it, somehow, but Tony's definitely a friendly here and will continue to be.
> 
> The author has no experience with Dissociative Identity Disorder whatsoever (way too much with other fun mental stuff though).  
> You can find the series timeline [HERE!](https://kocuria.tumblr.com/post/637890812746891264/timeline-for-the-winter-drabbles-series)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://kocuria.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/kocuria)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, so, it has to go,” Tony says.

“Buckaroo, you’re _creaking.”_

Steve lifts his head from where he’s planted on the sofa on the common floor, trying to write a report for Maria. He glances towards the corner of the room, where the two spies-slash-assassins are contentedly lounging on the floor next to the huge windows, watching... whatever it is they watch, on Nat's tablet. Steve’s been brushing up on his Russian kind of by osmosis, they’ve been speaking it so much around him - they don’t do it to exclude him, just seem to default to it whenever they forget themselves - but he’s not nearly good enough to follow their… space-related Youtube video?

Steve looks back at Tony and smirks. Oh, _this_ will be fun.

Winter looks up, tilts his head like a bird, and makes a sound somewhere between Russian “what?” and English “huh?”, like he’s changed his mind halfway through. Natasha cackles and he scowls at her playfully.

“Creaking, Buckaroo. You. Your arm. Right under my nose, in my living room. It’s kinda rude if you think about it,” Tony continues.

Natasha catches up to what’s happening and shares an amused look with Steve. Steve can spot the difference between Bucky and Winter effortlessly, and so can Nat - but other members of the team still seem to struggle with it, even after 7 months of them living in the Tower.

Winter just blinks slowly. Steve’s not sure if he’s confused by Tony - it’s quite a normal reaction to the genius, even for people with some more conventional socialization under their belt - or fucking with him. Judging by the way Nat is trying to keep a straight face and kind of failing, it’s probably the latter.

“I’ve been telling you, that thing needs to get looked at! There’s so many potential upgrades I could do for-” Tony winds up for what's obviously going to be a long argument, when Winter just says,

“Okay,” gives the tablet to Natasha and gets up in one fluid move. 

(The graceful way he unfolds himself makes Steve feel… things.

 _Kitten,_ Steve chants to himself. _We do not salivate over kittens.)_

“'Okay'?” Tony repeats, visibly derailed. “Just like that? I’ve been bugging you for months, and suddenly it’s just ‘okay’?”

“You’ve been bugging _Bucky,_ Tony,” Winter says with a shit-eating grin.

Tony splutters. “You- what- Jesus Christ, you need to wear a- a blinker or something! Have you considered- oh, I know, how about I make you a bracelet” - he gestures to the stack of studded leather cords Winter got from Natasha for Christmas and has been wearing pretty much every day since - “that, dunno, changes color, so the people around you can-”

“He’s good, Tony,” Steve interrupts, seeing Winter’s suddenly wary expression. “You can deal. You can _learn._ It’s really not that hard, you know.”

Tony takes one look at Steve’s serious face and falters. “I- but- okay. Arm. Creaking. Lab. Shall we?” Tony says, hopping off his bar stool and beelining towards the elevators.

Winter turns to Steve. It used to be disconcerting - at the beginning, all those months ago - to be the focus of that complete, almost predatory attention. Now it just makes him warm inside. _He_ is the one Winter turns to. He, Steve Rogers. Not _the Captain._ Just Steve.

Winter tilts his head in Tony’s direction, obviously wanting Steve to come with. Steve almost trips over himself springing up from the couch.

“Okay, so, it has to go,” Tony says.

Winter is sitting on the metal table, his face completely blank. If it was Bucky, Steve would be right there, holding his hand, maybe throwing an arm around his shoulders protectively - it _isn’t_ Bucky, though. And Winter didn’t imply in any way that he wants physical contact right now. If anything, he looks like he wants to be as far away as possible.

 _This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea,_ Steve realized almost as soon as JARVIS started his scans, non-invasive as they were. But it was _his_ decision. As much as Steve wants to protect Winter - and Bucky - from anything and everything, they’ve got a right to their own choices, their own mistakes.

Steve tears his eyes away from Winter’s face, and focuses on Tony.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“This, here?” Tony flicks his fingers and a nauseatingly detailed model of the inside of Winter’s torso appears in the air. “This thing was never designed for long-term use. See how it’s pulling the spine out of alignment? I’d bet Dum-E’s hat that it wasn’t this bad six months ago.”

Steve would be kind of embarrassed by the wounded noise that comes from him, if it was about anything but Bucky’s - Winter’s - well-being. He looks back at Winter, who’s staring at a fixed point somewhere over Tony’s right shoulder, his face a mask of indifference.

“What do you mean, not for long-term use?” Steve asks, seeing as Winter seems to have checked out.

“Best guess... They probably only took you out for a few days at a time, right? Not enough to notice the long-term effects it’d have on you,” Tony says to Winter, but there’s no reaction. He winces and turns to include Steve in the conversation. “They either didn’t realize how badly they botched it, or they just didn’t care.” 

“Winter?” Steve asks. “Can you tell us anything about this, anything at all? Do you remember?”

Winter focuses his gaze somewhere left of Steve’s ear and answers in a monotone, “The arm, model HUS-01, was installed in January 1987, approximately five months after The Asset’s ownership had been transferred to Alexander Pierce. The surgery took 7 hours and 23 minutes and was deemed a complete success after initial tests concluded-”

Steve can’t help himself. He reaches out and grabs Winter’s right hand, and Winter immediately stops talking. He shudders as his gaze drops down to their joined hands, and squeezes Steve’s fingers a little, like he needs to make sure they’re real. When he lifts his head, Steve’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Bucky?” he asks cautiously.

“What did you _do,_ Steve?” Bucky asks, snatching his hand away. 

Steve tries to not feel jilted, he really does. He knows his face is an open book to Bucky, though.

“Why are we here?” Bucky sounds furious.

“Tony wanted to run some tests on the arm and-” Steve begins, but Bucky talks right over him.

“No. I said no, no tests, no upgrades, no tinkering. What part of ‘no’ was not clear to you, Stark?”

“Hey, your alter-ego” - Bucky growls, and Tony backtracks - “sorry, _Winter,_ Winter said it’s okay! I didn’t know-”

“Didn’t know what? That it’s not something I want? That maybe I know more about us and have my _reasons_ for not agreeing to this?” Bucky's voice is strained.

“Bucky, wait,” Steve jumps in before Tony digs himself into a hole. “Winter said yes. He was _okay_ with this. You keep saying he has just as much say in what goes on as you do. Are you saying it wasn’t his decision to make?” he tries to sound reasonable, but it comes out close to pleading instead.

“I- we- it’s not- _fuck_ _.”_ Bucky runs his hands through his hair, messing up the intricate braid that Natasha did for him. “Okay. What did you find and what the hell is _that?”_ He gestures to the gruesome hologram.

“You need surgery,” Tony cuts to the chase. He seems to have realized he’s not in danger of bodily harm, and gets right back on track. “And soon. That torture device of a limb is tearing your spine apart, Buck-o. Just give me some time to whip up a replacement and we could do it as soon as next week. Two, tops. Helen is in Germany right now, but-”

“No,” Bucky states bluntly.

“Buck-” Steve begins, but Bucky gets up from the table and turns toward the door.

“I said _no,_ Steve,” he says over his shoulder, walking away.

“What, you’re saying you’re not in pain?” Tony calls.

Bucky stops and spins to face them. “Of fucking course we're in pain, we have a weapons-grade prosthetic welded to our side, connecting directly to our brain. What the hell do you think it feels like, a traipse through a field of fucking daisies?!” 

Steve feels like he’s just been sucker-punched by Tony's suit. How didn’t he _know_ this?! They’ve been living together for _months!_

How did _Nat_ not know?

… Or did she?

“The answer is still no, Stark. We're not your pet project, or a broken toy for you to fix,” Bucky spits out and storms away, viciously slamming the glass door.

Steve feels like there’s ants swarming just under his skin - it’s the way he’s always been, for as long as he can remember, whenever they fought for real. He wants nothing more than to run after Bucky, but knows it’s better to give him at least a moment to… process.

He sits on the table Bucky just vacated and glares at the hologram still slowly spinning between them.

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Tony mutters.


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi, Winter,” Steve rasps, voice still heavy with sleep, but definitely fond. “He’s still mad at me, huh.”  
> Winter winces. “At both of us, really,” he answers, wrapping himself tighter in his blue blanket-cocoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This llama is well and truly away. The chapter count might go up, cause *flails hands* suddenly _plot._ Also, yes, the fic summary has changed.  
>   
> котенок [kotyonok] = Russian for kitten  
> Shared headspace: **bold** for Winter, _italics_ for Bucky.

Steve is objectively beautiful.

Winter’s known many objectively beautiful people. He knows symmetry when he sees it - he also has senses heightened enough to detect things like elevated heart-rate and dilated pupils, signifying attraction. Sure, some of those could’ve easily been attributed to fear, fostered in all Hydra operatives the way he’s seen Steve’s team foster camaraderie. But Hydra seemed to value physical beauty in its higher-ups for some reason, so it’s always made blaring alarms go off in his head.  _ Danger. Be careful. _

(He knows, now, why the transfer to the Americans is what finally broke Bucky’s spirit, making him retreat to the darkest corners and leaving Winter to deal with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed handler on his own. The realization didn’t come easy, staying just out of his grasp for a long time - then one night it  _ clicked. _ Bucky woke up, thrashing, from a nightmare of sitting in a dark, luxurious kitchen with a sense of impending danger, to see Steve’s face looming over him. It suddenly made sense, why  _ that  _ handler was the one Bucky couldn’t stomach, even if he was far from the worst they ever had.

Winter knows Steve can  _ never  _ know about this.)

Steve is objectively beautiful, but Winter’s learned that it doesn’t necessarily have to mean bad things. All of the Avengers and their associates are, for some unfathomable reason - as if good looks are a prerequisite of being a superhero, or friends with one. Winter’s yet to observe any malicious or cruel behavior from any of them - and he’s been watching them very closely for months. Oh, they squabble - and isn’t  _ that  _ a new concept, a disagreement that doesn’t end with someone bleeding out on the floor - but there seems to be no actual danger in the Tower. And he’s pretty sure if there was one, JARVIS would somehow contain it.

(Winter trusts JARVIS more than anybody else in this place, other than Steve and Natalia.)

Steve is objectively beautiful. His face is amazingly expressive, going from stern-but-kind Captain America in front of the press, to playful-and-fond with his teammates, to a melting puddle of besotted goo when he looks at Bucky. Like this, asleep and relaxed, it’s easiest to see traces of the boy Bucky fell in love with.

Steve is objectively beautiful, but Winter is not afraid. He reaches out to run his flesh fingers carefully through his hair, gold and soft and exactly like his skin remembers from another life. Steve snuffles and turns his head towards him, then stills.

One of JARVIS’s roombas inches into the room, chirping merrily and promptly disappearing under the bed. Steve stirs at the sound. He doesn’t wake up the way Winter does, all at once - it’s a slow process, his body stretching, nose scrunching, an unintelligible rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest before he actually opens his eyes. Winter can see the moment Steve recognizes him - there’s a brief flash of blue sadness when he realizes it’s not Bucky, but then there’s only warmth, laced with obvious surprise.

Winter's spent some nights in this bed, before. He's just never let Steve see him here.

“Hi, Winter,” Steve rasps, voice still heavy with sleep, but definitely fond. “He’s still mad at me, huh.”

Winter winces. “At both of us, really,” he answers, wrapping himself tighter in his blue blanket-cocoon.

As soon as Bucky registered Winter coming out of his mission-ready stupor, he retreated so deep that Winter can’t really sense what’s going on. It’s like a heavy cloud roiling over that corner of their mind, chilly and distant and threatening a storm. Winter knows better than to poke it.

“You did nothing wrong, котенок,” Steve says distractedly, then all color drains from his face. “Um- I-” Winter snickers at his stricken expression. “I heard Nat call you that? And it kind of slipped out? Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s not my place to-”

“Relax, Steve.” Winter grins. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. There’s worse things to be called than ‘kitten’.”

“You’re kinda savage for a kitten, though,” Steve murmurs, turning to face Winter more fully. 

Winter shrugs. He doesn’t feel guilty for defending themselves.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says softly, acutely aware of Bucky’s distress. “He wouldn’t talk to me.”

Steve takes a moment to think. “I… don’t know how you guys work, exactly, so I’m not sure how to help. I’m sorry. Has this ever happened before?”

“Not like this. Not in anger, not without explanation. It’s- I don’t know how to do this thing, just  _ human  _ full-time without him. He’s- I need him, his insight, even if it’s just a whisper in the back of my head.” Winter huddles into a tight ball.

Steve reaches out a hand slowly - slow enough that Winter has enough time to move away if he wanted to - and tucks a strand of hair that’s escaped Winter’s braid behind his ear. Winter kind of wants to tilt his face into the hand and purr.

He settles for just the slight tilt. He’s a goddamn assassin, not a house-cat.

He senses slight amusement from Bucky’s corner.

**There you are. Ready to come out? Please?**

There’s nothing more and Winter sighs heavily. He’ll take what he can get.

He focuses back on Steve, who’s watching him intently.

“He talking?” he asks.

“Not really, no. He likes the kitten thing though.” Winter tries to smile. He fails.

Steve visibly hesitates. “So, about the surgery…”

“I’m not doing anything without Bucky’s consent,” Winter says sharply.

“No, of course, I know that! Just… it’s not something you can avoid, in the long run. I know Bucky wants to hide his head in the sand, it was always his go-to reaction, as if not looking at the problem means it’ll magically go away.” 

Winter sighs. Steve isn’t wrong, really.

“It needs to be done, котенок” - Steve blushes a little, but continues - “before any irreversible damage happens. The serum can heal a lot, but I’d really rather we not test the limits of it. It’s your choice, of course it is, but…” he trails off.

“But it’s not a choice at all, in the end,” Winter finishes. “I know. I- he promised I'll always get a say. I don’t want to end up paralyzed, you know. You say I’m a kitten, but I’m more deadly than a full STRIKE team put together - you know that, you’ve  _ seen  _ that. If there’s a need for these skills? I’ll use them, I want to be  _ able  _ to use them if - when - that time comes.”

He senses disapproval coming from Bucky, and shudders. Steve notices, of course.

“Hey, hey. Can I?” He moves a little closer, close enough for Winter to shuffle into him and rest his forehead on Steve’s chest, the rest of his body still huddled away in his blanket. “It’s gonna be okay. I know it’s new for you, but people fight sometimes, and it doesn’t have to mean the end of the world. You mean well, and so does he.” Winter makes a disconsolate whine that’s very much at odds with the reputation and skills he just proclaimed. “Hey. I promise he’ll come around, you’ll work something out,” Steve murmurs, softly petting Winter’s hair.

Winter sniffles. Steve gamely pretends not to notice.

The roomba chirps in alarm from under the bed, and Winter disentangles himself from both the octopus-supersoldier and the octopus-blanket. He rolls off the bed and reaches under it, retrieving the little bot.

“What did you choke on  _ this  _ time?” he grumbles in mock annoyance. The roomba chirps again, and Steve snorts.

“You making friends over there?” he teases lightly.

“Oh, shut up and go make coffee. And I want waffles,” Winter shoots back, trying to match Steve’s tone. He almost succeeds.

“You do know I’m technically, a) a Captain while you’re a Sergeant, and b) the leader of the team you’re a provisional member of?” Steve grins like a goof. Winter’s long past thinking he’s serious about being their superior in any way. He changes tactics.

“Please, Steve?” He brings out his best harmless kitten impression and Steve suddenly turns a very fetching shade of pink.

“Um-” he stammers.

“Please?” Winter suddenly finds it’s surprisingly easy to smile. Steve tends to have this effect on both him and Bucky.

Steve blinks a few times, then shakes his head and laughs. Or, more accurately,  _ giggles, _ but Winter won’t say  _ that  _ to anyone who isn’t Natalia.

Winter senses mild amusement from Bucky, again.

**Enjoying this, are you.**

Bucky sniggers a little.

Winter sets to helping the poor roomba, muttering to himself in Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a fluff interlude happening between this chapter and the next one - you can read it [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652136) 😁


	3. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is-  
> Steve is _everything._  
>  But that’s not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote myself into a complete corner here and it took me 3 weeks to figure out how to get out of it. The chapter count has been tentatively updated, but I'm honestly not sure where this llama will ultimately end up 😉 This was supposed to be the final chapter but then. It wasn't?
> 
> Shared headspace: **bold** for Winter, _italics_ for Bucky.
> 
> edited to add: I posted this chapter, went over it and surmised 'yes, this is suitably depressing, good job, ko!' and then went to tweet a snippet - literally just as today's news hit. Fair warning: this chapter is _not_ a happy one. Take care of yourselves! 🖤

It’s been 8 months.

8 months is a good run, isn’t it? He hasn’t been lucid for this long since… the 40’s? The 50’s? He doesn’t know exactly when Winter was born, summoned by Bucky’s agonized desperation to save him from himself.

It’s been 8 months since the Helicarriers, since he’s made the decision to _try._ To make things work with Winter, to figure out how to… to _timeshare_ their Frankenstein’s monster of a body and their snake pit of a mind.

It’s been a _great_ 8 months. Amazing, really, ever since Winter brought them back to Steve - rocky as that homecoming was at the beginning. The future is every bit as awesome as Howard promised. Yes, no flying cars, but other technology? The _food?_ Not to mention, Steve and him... 

(... Steve and _them?_ Steve and Bucky _and Winter?_ Could that even work…?) 

… what they were, what they _are_ is not a one-way ticket to the asylum anymore. He could, they could-

 _Stop,_ Barnes. No use thinking of it now.

The Avengers are… well, they’re like the Howlies, except on steroids. Somehow, they’ve accepted Steve as their leader, and that makes them Bucky’s team, too. It’s nice, to have that sort of camaraderie again - even if Steve complains that it’s more like herding cats than any real command.

Natalia... she’s a breath of fresh air - the one person who even remotely gets what they’ve gone through, who knows not to judge their outbursts, the panic attacks and tantrums they don’t dare show even Steve.

… It keeps coming back to Steve, doesn’t it?

Steve is-

Steve is _everything._

But that’s not enough. There’s a reason Winter came to be - to help Bucky, to take over when it’s all too much. Steve’s in good hands. They all are.

8 months is a good run. It’s far longer than he’s ever managed before.

It’s okay to let go for a while. It’s… easier, here in the dark corner where nothing can quite touch you and decisions don’t need to be made.

Bucky drifts.

* * *

He emerges, vaguely aware of being hooked up to an alarming number of wires, surrounded by holographic screens that fizzle into nothing as soon as he opens his eyes.

“Did it work?”

He recognizes Steve’s voice, tired and hoarse. It’s so tempting to look his way, just turn his head to the right and _see_ him, but, no. No.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

**You’re hurting him.**

_He’s got you._

**That’s not enough!**

_It’s going to have to be._

* * *

**He misses you.**

* * *

**Bucky?**

* * *

**I** **miss you.**

* * *

He’s not sure what makes him finally open his eyes and _look._ Maybe it’s the comfort - the softness of their ridiculously expensive sheets, the familiar scent of Steve’s soap, the hand slowly gliding through his hair.

Or maybe it’s the cloying, sticky sensation of Winter’s fear that’s been building up for-

How long has it been?

He opens his eyes and sees the exact moment Steve realizes who he’s looking at.

Bucky smiles.

Steve doesn’t.

* * *

“You _left him!”_

Steve’s pacing back and forth, back and forth, and it’s... difficult, trying to keep track of him.

“Steve-”

“Do you have any idea-!”

“Steve, _please._ Sit.”

Steve huffs, then prowls to the floor-to-ceiling windows instead, turning to face the sunrise that’s just begun brightening the horizon. 

Well, at least he’s not moving all over the place anymore.

“It’s been _weeks,_ Bucky. _Weeks!”_

“I didn’t think-”

“No. No, you didn’t. Aren’t you supposed to be in his head? Do you even know what you _did_ to him? He thought you weren’t coming back!” Steve whips back to face Bucky, and.

Oh.

He’s seen that face, before, just never directed at him. It’s Steve’s “I don’t like bullies” face.

Oh _fuck._

“Steve, I wasn’t-”

“I get leaving _me._ I may not like it, but I get that you’re your own person and you might need your space. But leaving _him?_ You _made_ him. He’s always been there for you! He _is_ you!”

“I didn’t realize-” Bucky tries to organize his sluggish thoughts, to figure out what he actually wants to say, but Steve speaks right over him, raising his voice.

“You didn’t realize _what?_ That he’s basically less than a year old? That he’s socialized to see everything in terms of mission and survival? That he has no frame of reference for what’s going on around him, that he’s been relying on you to-”

“To help him,” Bucky finishes hollowly. “To explain all of this to him.”

“Well guess what, he didn’t magically stop needing you just because you decided to, what, take a vacation?” Bucky rears back, feeling the accusation land like a physical blow, and Steve visibly swallows his next words and takes a few deep breaths before he continues, “Look, I know things got tough, but you can’t just _go away_ like that, you _can’t,_ not without so much as an ‘oh, hey, I need some time!’ You can’t, Buck, he’s been going out of his mind-” Bucky huffs slightly, and Steve blinks, then rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha. Yes, _your_ mind.” 

He comes right up to where Bucky’s seated on the edge of the bed and crouches in front of him, and Bucky instinctively spreads his legs, making space for him. There’s a ghost of a smile on Steve’s face as he rests his forearms on Bucky’s thighs, looking up at him. Bucky’s left hand goes to Steve’s hair out of habit, and he winces.

“Getting worse, isn’t it,” Steve observes.

“Yeah, it’s been-”

“5 weeks, Buck,” Steve finishes, and Bucky sucks in a breath. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t realize. Time passes... different? Down there. Back with- with Hydra, sometimes I could’ve sworn it’s been months and it turned out to only have been hours, other times…” He shakes his head, alarmed. “No, I didn’t know, Stevie. I’m sorry-”

“No. No, I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Steve says with a frown, seating himself more comfortably on the floor, resting his face on Bucky’s thigh and closing his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s flesh hand and places it over his heart, and the steady beat under his fingers makes everything feel just that tiny bit clearer, the thick fog that's been muddling his thoughts lifting a little.

Bucky hesitates, then steels himself and focuses his attention inward.

_Winter?_

There’s a sensation not unlike a 250-pound mountain of muscle and metal barrelling right into him and crushing him in a hug. Bucky blinks.

_Wow. Since when are you a hugger?_

**I’m literally never letting you out of my sight ever again.**

_I’m sorry, I-_

**Bucky.**

_… Yes?_

**Shut up. I’m hugging.**

Bucky can’t stop a laugh that bubbles out of him.

_I missed you too, Winter._

Winter’s only answer is to try his best to hide in Bucky’s neck. Bucky makes an executive decision to investigate it later - how does _this_ work, exactly - and just focuses on squeezing Winter back just as close. He realizes Winter is shaking, tremors running through his tightly coiled body.

_I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have-_

**Shut up. Shut up, you’re _here_ now.**

_Yes, I am,_ Bucky whispers, petting Winter’s unbraided, wild hair. _I’m here._


	4. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want it gone,” Bucky says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this thing? This _plot?_ How did this _happen?_  
>  Also, this was supposed to be either Steve's or Winter's POV for the sake of symmetry (and my OCD) but Bucky had another idea.  
> Also _also:_ I still suck at answering comments... but I keep coming back and re-reading them at 4am when I can't sleep. Y'all being wonderful, thank you 🥰 
> 
> There's a reference to the glorious [I [Heart] You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15618426) by writeonclara at the end there - I've just re-read it for... probably at least 10th time 😁 
> 
> Shared headspace: **bold** for Winter, _italics_ for Bucky.

They’re tangled together, skin on skin, Steve mouthing lazy kisses on Bucky’s neck, Bucky absent-mindedly stroking patterns up and down his back, when Bucky finally speaks up.

“I want it gone.”

Steve makes an inquisitive sound, sleepy and rumpled and adorable, the universal signal for ‘I’m listening’ without having to tear his lips away from Bucky’s clavicle. There's a wave of helpless affection flooding Bucky, telling him to just cuddle the hell out of the octopus-supersoldier in his bed and let the matter drop, and he tamps down on it (reluctantly). He’s trying to have a conversation here, goddammit.

“The arm. I want it gone.”

He can feel Steve tense up, then move slightly away from him, just enough to look him in the eye. Bucky turns to face him, two parentheses with feet still tangled together. Steve’s practically glowing in the morning sun flooding the bedroom - his hair all fluffy without product, miles of golden skin unblemished by any battle scars. It’d be so easy to get distracted.

“You… want to get rid of your arm,” Steve says, face carefully blank.

“Not _my_ arm. _The_ arm. Mine is gone, it’s been gone for a really long time. This… this _thing_ is theirs. If we have to do something about it, if I have to suffer through whatever Banner and Cho have planned for me, I want it gone.”

“Stark did mention that it’s made of some sort of vibranium alloy and could be melted down to use in the new one he’s been designing for you.” Steve reaches out to take Bucky’s left hand, then stops when he sees Bucky flinch away minutely. He settles for putting his hand on Bucky’s cheek, gently stroking the delicate skin under his eye. Bucky wants to nuzzle into the hand and purr, but. But.

“No, you don’t understand. I want it gone and I don’t want a new one. I don’t _want_ it, whatever it is that Stark’s got cooked up in his lab. Not another metal thing welded to me, tapped into my brain like I’m some sort of robot. Science fiction was all well and good when we were just reading about it, Stevie, but this? Living it? I don’t _want_ this. I’d rather go without a limb.” Bucky looks at Steve, stares him down, really, as if daring him to disagree.

Steve’s speechless for a second, then the cogs visibly start turning in his head. The strategist, analyzing all the angles, trying to figure out possible outcomes.

“We can set up a teleconference with doctor Cho and talk about it?” he finally says, still careful, sensing he needs to tread softly. Bucky relaxes. He was afraid Steve was going to challenge him on this, try to make a case for - for _functionality,_ or _safety,_ or even _normalcy._ He should’ve known better - Steve became this paragon of perfection only 4 years ago. Of course he knows _normal_ is not the only way to go.

Then Steve goes and ruins whatever calm Bucky’s managed to scrounge up.

“What does Winter think?”

* * *

“You really should ask him as soon as possible, you know,” Steve says, not turning back from where he’s manning the waffle iron. His voice doesn’t hold any judgement - if anything, it’s sympathetic. Bucky just wants to find a dark corner and hide in it until the matter blows over.

The corner is currently occupied by Winter, happily thinking loud thoughts about the kittens they’ve seen in the shelter Steve took them to - he retreated there as soon as he noticed the number of fabric layers between Steve and Bucky gradually dwindling. He’s been doing the amused mental equivalent of singing very loudly with his eyes closed ever since. 

(Turns out, Winter’s ready to deal with _a lot_ if it means Bucky’s back and happy - or at least not depressed and dissociated. Winter and Steve seem to have made some progress of their own in the touching department, too. Winter will never actually want sex, Bucky doesn’t think, but platonic intimacy? That’s probably on the table, one day.)

Point is, Winter hasn’t heard the arm conversation, and Bucky’s been carefully avoiding thinking about the matter too hard in case Winter ‘overhears’. It’s way too easy for them to just tap into each other’s thoughts by accident.

“I know,” Bucky finally admits miserably. He can’t retreat into the corner, so he curls on the kitchen chair instead, trying to make himself as small as possible. He’s not very successful - those weren’t made to accommodate a balled-up supersoldier.

(Bucky still has moments of sheer disbelief that he’s broader than _Steve._ What the _hell?_ Winter, of course, takes it all in stride, owning the space around him like the graceful predator he was trained to be. A very _adorable_ graceful predator.)

Steve turns to him for a moment, looks him over with a soft expression, then tilts his head in question. Bucky sighs and focuses on Winter.

* * *

**So… you don’t want the arm.**

_No. I’m sorry, no. It isn’t ours, it’s a thing, it’ll never be a part of us._

**It’ll never be a part of** **_you,_ **Winter answers bluntly.

_I-_

**No, wait. Let me finish. You know I wasn’t there when they took your arm.**

Bucky makes a confused, hurt sound. He doesn’t want to _think_ about that.

 **I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were alone for that. But… I don’t remember that arm. I don’t remember ever not having** **_this_ ** **one.**

Bucky starts to protest, gets as far as, _Wait, what about-_ but Winter isn’t done.

 **Okay, yes, I remember the other ones, the Russian ones. That’s not the point. This? This is all I know. I’m used to the range of motion being better on our left. I know how to recalibrate the plates just thinking about it. I’ve** **_always_ ** **compensated for the difference in traction between metal and skin. This is what I know. This is all I’ve** **_ever_ ** **known.**

 _Yes, and you don’t know what it feels like not to be in pain all the time!_ Bucky counters, somewhat hysterically. _To touch Steve and feel it with_ both _hands! You-_

 **Wouldn’t the pain thing be fixed? If we do the surgery?** Winter stops him.

_Yes, but-_

**And Stark said he can build in sensors so it’s just as sensitive as, or even more than the right one?**

_Yes, but-_

**I don’t understand,** Winter says, helplessly.

 _It’s not OURS!_ Bucky yells, frustrated, then immediately regrets it when Winter shrinks away. _Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I promise, I’m not angry at_ you.

 **Who** **_are_ ** **you angry at, then?** Winter asks, carefully. Bucky can see how apprehensive he is, and wants to kick himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare him.

 _Hydra? Zola? The world? I don’t_ know, _Winter, I just know I don’t_ want _it, I don’t want another arm, I just want to be myself, even if it’s minus a limb._

**What about me, then?**

_I-_

**No, tell me. What about** **_me?_** **What about the parkour runs I’ve been doing with Peter? Braiding Natalia’s hair? What if someone attacks us? What if-**

_Wait, no. We talked about it. We said we won’t fight anymore. We’re done with that._

**_You_ ** **said** **_you_ ** **won’t fight anymore.** **_You’re_ ** **done with that.**

_Wait, are you saying-_

**I’m saying if someone threatens us? Attacks** **_Steve?_ ****You damn well bet I’m gonna do something about it. And I can’t do that if we’re one arm short.**

Bucky giggles in spite of himself. _Armless, you mean?_

Winter rolls his eyes. **Bucky.**

 _Yes, okay, I see your point. But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t_ want _this. I_ can’t, _Winter, it’s too much._

Winter thinks for a second, and Bucky thinks he’s won this one, when:

**Remember the HUS-02?**

Bucky shuffles through their memories. It’s not like he’s been lucid for most of their time under Pierce. _The upgrade they were planning for after the Helicarriers?_

**Yeah. Remember the schematics?**

Bucky shuffles some more. _Increased tensile strength, more articulated plates to allow for finer motor control, and-_

**Detachable.**

Bucky blinks. _They can_ do _that?_

**Well, if anyone can, it’s gonna be Stark.**

_That sounds… impossible._

**We’re in the 21st century. With Steve. Living in a sentient building. One of our friends is an actual god. You want to talk about impossible?** Winter challenges. **Can we talk to Stark? Please? Bucky, please. Don’t just… make a decision, not without considering all the options.** **_Please._ **

Bucky blinks, then suddenly feels bitterly ashamed of himself. He’s made Winter _beg._ What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to force you into anything. I really didn’t._

**I know you didn’t, Bucky,** Winter says, looking rattled. **This is the first decision this big you've had to make since… since the war, probably? Just, please, don’t shut me out on this one. You’ve always turned to me with situation analysis, haven’t you?**

_I… You’re right._

**Did I make the wrong decision bringing us home, to Steve?**

_That’s not the same!_

**Isn’t it?** Winter tilts his head. **It’s big. It’s going to change our life, literally everything about how we function. It’s about the** **_both_ ** **of us.**

_Can I… think about it?_

**Can we talk to Stark?** Winter counters.

Bucky sighs, resigned and drained. _Okay. Okay, yes, we’ll talk to Stark._

**And you won’t make a decision until you’ve heard him out.**

_I won’t make a decision without including_ you. _I promise,_ Bucky murmurs, abashed.

 **What does Steve think?** Winter asks, curious. He seems to have bounced back, now that there’s an actual action to take, a crisis to solve.

 _He’s been… quiet, actually. Told me to talk to you,_ Bucky admits. Winter’s smile is radiant and completely smitten. Bucky chuckles. _Go, ask him yourself._ _I know you’ve been giving us time, these last few days. Thank you._

**You needed it. And he missed you.**

_And you miss_ him. _Go. Be disgustingly cute._

Winter beams even more, then skips away towards the smell of waffles and the sound of Steve’s off-key humming.

Jesus, is this what Bucky looks like looking at Steve? It’s a wonder anyone can stand to be in the same _room_ with them, if there’s practically heart emojis floating around them like this.


	5. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m okay, you didn’t have to run here to save me.” Bucky’s voice has a mean edge to it, and Steve flinches.  
> “I don’t think you need saving, Buck,” he says quietly, coming to sit next to Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a new story - [the crown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652136) \- that's an utterly fluffy, flooffy interlude between chapters 2 and 3, during Bucky's 5-week break. Seriously, it's just about the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written 😂 go, read, load up on happy Winter vibes, then come back here for 2,8k of angst that just _happened_ in _one afternoon_ and I don't even know _how_.
> 
> I'm pretty sure 6 is the final chapter count, but then this chapter was supposed to be completely different, so I can't really promise anything? 😉 
> 
> For reference: [sezamki](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sesame_seed_candy) and Bucky's [kitty collecting game](https://www.theverge.com/2016/1/1/10699976/neko-atsume-the-game-of-passivity).  
> (I already wrote a whole [ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761862) about Avengers playing that game. It's just about the only game I've ever gotten into. Try it out, it's _fun_ 😁)

It takes Steve a week to realize what’s happening. It’s obvious, in retrospect, the way Bucky throws himself into everything with complete abandon, a manic energy coursing through him like he’s got something to prove, like there’s a deadline looming over his head.

It takes Steve a week to realize - but, to be fair, Winter doesn’t notice it either.

“I want to have Steve’s shield in place of this fucking red star,” Bucky states, suddenly, stopping Tony mid-word. “That’s the only thing I care about in all this, to be honest. That, and it has to come off at a moment’s notice.”

“That’s… going to be tricky,” Tony says slowly, sensing the tension in the room. Bucky’s a caged animal, and his anxiety permeates the lab like a tangible thing. “I can absolutely make something that could be detached with some tools in a sterile environment, but-”

“No. Make it happen, Stark, I _know_ you can.” There’s a mixture of command and begging in Bucky’s voice, and Steve can see Tony take a few deep breaths to avoid snapping. He seems well aware of the fragile state Bucky’s in right now.

“I’ll _try,_ Buckaroo, but that’s going to take some doing,” he finally answers, frowning.

“Good. Take all the time you need.” Bucky jumps up from the beanbag he’s been seated on - they’ve learned their lesson from Winter’s first visit here: no exam tables, no laboratory lighting, no tools in the immediate vicinity. DUM-E’s fallen a little in love with the arm and keeps beeping at it curiously, and that’s just about the only thing that can make Bucky smile while he’s in here.

“Wait, what about other stuff? The touch sensors, the plates around your shoulder, I need to take a look at the way it’s connected to your brain stem-!” Tony blinks in confusion.

“Talk to Winter,” Bucky throws over his shoulder.

“Well... okay,” Tony says to the closing door. “That’s almost 15 minutes longer than he lasted the first time?”

“I’m sorry, Tony. He’s been… on edge, to put it mildly. I’d probably better go after him,” Steve says, torn between keeping Tony company as he’s literally saving the man he loves from paralysis, and comforting said man during a panic attack of likely epic proportions.

“Go, take care of him.” Tony waves his hand, startles noticing the scanner-wand he’s been holding and gives it to DUM-E, who chirps at it happily. “I've got an arm to completely redesign, apparently.”

“I’m _sorry,_ he-”

“Are you kidding? It’s a _challenge!_ I’ve been meaning to find a better way to interface the suit with my reactor, this would totally apply there too. Don’t worry, Capsicle, I’m good here.” 

“I’m okay, you didn’t have to run here to save me.” Bucky’s voice has a mean edge to it, and Steve flinches.

“I don’t think you need _saving,_ Buck,” he says quietly, coming to sit next to Bucky. 

Bucky’s at the edge of the roof - Winter’s favorite spot, protected from the winds by the hulking A that Tony gleefully placed there when the Avengers were formed. There’s heat lamps that conveniently _appeared_ when autumn chill started making Winter look like a miserable cold puppy every time he came back from up here, so the fact that Bucky stormed out not wearing a jacket isn’t an immediate problem. JARVIS is a _godsend._

“I’m not some delicate snowflake for you to-” Steve makes a frustrated sound, and Bucky backtracks. “Okay, no, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been… it’s _difficult,_ Steve. It was always horrible, whenever they did anything to it, you know. Why bother trying to develop a working anesthesia, when you can just gag and restrain the Asset.” His voice is bitter, and the only thing Steve can think to do is embrace him and hum comfortingly. Bucky goes willingly, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

Steve knows this new snippet of information will hit him later like a ton of bricks - but for right now, this isn’t about _him._ He focuses on holding Bucky close without making him feel smothered.

“It’s not going to be like that, sweetheart. Bruce found a way to put me under before we even had to Assemble for the first time after the Chitauri. You’re not going to feel a thing, I promise.”

“And you’re going to be there?” Bucky’s voice is small, and Steve sighs in relief. _This_ is his Bucky. He’s always felt things just that little bit more, and it just Wasn’t Done, back then, for a man to be emotional like that. Steve was the only one who got to see _this,_ and he’s always known it for the privilege it is.

(It makes it all the more heartbreaking that they forced the Soldier - for all intents and purposes an empty, emotionless husk - into the charming, empathetic boy Steve fell in love with.)

“I promise. I’ll talk to Helen, I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll be the last thing you see before they start, and right by your side when you wake up.”

Bucky sighs wetly against his neck, and Steve brings him just that little bit closer. Bucky’s shivering, and the cold concrete definitely isn’t making him feel better, for all that the sun is shining merrily.

“Let’s go inside, hm? Hot chocolate with marshmallows?” he suggests, breathing the words into Bucky’s lavender-and-vanilla-smelling hair. He’ll never get enough of this, he thinks.

“Are you trying to lure Winter out?” Bucky chuckles a little.

“Nah, I just think what we all need is a good cuddle and a few episodes of _Stargate,”_ Steve tempts, knowing how much Bucky loves all the _fantasy_ versions of the future he’d hoped for when they were kids.

“A _cuddle,_ you say?”

There’s lips on Steve’s neck, and he _knows_ what Bucky’s doing, distracting him. He knows they shouldn’t.

He lets him, anyway.

“You should let Winter adopt those kittens you’ve seen, after the surgery,” Bucky says out of the blue, a few days later, and Steve frowns.

“Okay, there’s so many things wrong with that sentence. Nobody’s _letting_ anybody do anything, I’m not the boss of you? And what do you mean, _I_ should? We’re going to go and pick them up together, Winter will be thrilled, and they’ll be your cats, too? He’s been _waiting_ for you with this!”

There’s… something, brewing on Bucky’s face, some emotion Steve can’t identify, and it makes him uneasy. He’s used to being able to read Bucky - and, more and more often, Winter - like an open book. There’s something Bucky’s not telling him.

Steve pushes the thought to the back of his head and focuses on sketching Bucky’s face as he purses his lips and goes back to playing the kitty collecting game on his tablet.

Alarm bells start really ringing in his head when Natasha comes to him.

He and Nat don’t actually _talk_ that much about whatever it is she does with Bucky and Winter when they’re alone. He knows they do a lot of hair stuff. She trains with Bucky. Winter keeps making her watch science documentaries that she claims to hate, but sighs in exaggerated exasperation and agrees to anyway, every time. They’ve got their thing, and Steve doesn’t pry into it.

So when she comes to him while Bucky’s out with Peter, he knows something’s wrong.

“He keeps getting distracted,” Nat says, throwing herself into Winter’s armchair and curling up, very much the way he does. She looks ridiculously tiny in it, since it’s big enough to contain a very large, sprawled-out supersoldier. “I know his brain’s still scrambled - oh, hush, Rogers, so was mine, I get to say that - and recovering, but it’s… new. He’s hiding something.” 

He glowers at her, still unhappy with her choice of words, but lets it drop. “I know. I was hoping he was talking to _you_ about it.” He thinks for a moment, then looks up. “JARVIS? Do you know anything?”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “I do not, Captain. I would hesitate to betray their trust, even if I _did_ know anything, but in this case I must regrettably say there’s nothing to tell.”

Steve sighs. “Well, worth a try. What do you think it is?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Yeah, okay, the surgery. But what exactly? It doesn’t feel like he’s just _worried._ There’s more.”

“I’ll ask Winter,” Nat says, then makes herself comfortable. “Now, I believe you just got a shipment of sezamki, Winter raved about it. I want my share, it’s only fair.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh, is it, now?”

“Yup,” she immediately answers, popping the ‘p’ and smirking, and he can’t help but laugh. God save him from Rusian spysassins, he’s apparently unable to say no to any of them. Thankfully there’s only two.

… he hopes.

Winter doesn’t know anything, Nat reports the next day when she joins him on his daily run. They’re back to square one.

Things come to a head the next evening.

“So, what would you like to do for your birthday?” Steve asks, idly running his hand through Bucky’s hair. It falls well past his shoulder now, in gentle, silky waves. Bucky’s taken to letting it down just for Steve to play with, noticing the slight obsession Steve’s developed over the last few months.

“Can we just stay here? I want to spend as much time as possible with you, before-” Bucky catches himself, closes his eyes and scrunches his eyebrows for a moment. “Nevermind. Can we just order in and watch something?”

“Before? Before what?” Steve asks, gently tilting Bucky’s face from where he’s suddenly trying to smoosh it into Steve’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter, Stevie,” Bucky says. He seems to have noticed that hiding isn’t an option, so he moves to straddle Steve’s thighs instead and smirks at him. “I was supposed to meet up with Nat tonight, but something came up with Clint so I got a whole evening off and nothing to do. Any ideas?” He runs his right hand up Steve’s neck and tangles it into Steve’s hair, and Steve’s breath quickens. It’s practically pavlovian, it’s _always_ been, when Bucky’s voice goes husky like that and-

Bucky’s holding his left arm carefully immobile by his side, and Steve’s jarred out of the daze he’s almost let himself be lulled into.

Distractions, again.

He grabs Bucky’s hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss, instead, then leans his face into it.

“You’re in pain, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“I’m always in-!” Bucky exclaims, then closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “Please, Steve? I don’t want to think about-”

“What’s going on, Buck? Can you talk to me?” Steve’s been told he looks like an entreating golden retriever when he lifts his eyebrows just-so. He hopes it’ll work. “I know you’ve been anxious about the surgery, but there’s more, isn’t there? Nat’s worried, and so am I. So is Winter.”

Bucky’s face is a picture of betrayal. Trying to misdirect, again. “So now you’re ganging up on me?”

“Hey, none of that,” Steve chides. “You know that’s not it. We’re concerned, that’s all.”

Bucky breaks. “I’ve only got a week! Steve, please, there’s so many things I want to do, and I’ve only got _a week,_ and we only just _got_ here to this future, and-”

“What do you think will happen, Buck?” Steve asks quietly, trying not to spook him.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Bucky yells, his breathing becoming erratic. “I… don’t… know…!” he whispers between ragged gasps. There’s tears streaming down his face, his lower lip is wobbling, utter desperation written all over. “Please don’t make me do this, _please don’t,_ I don’t want to, please, Stevie, you can _stop_ this!”

Steve’s heart breaks. “I _can’t_ stop this, sweetheart.” Bucky whines, but Steve continues, “You don’t _have to_ do the surgery, nobody is going to force you to do it. But this,” he gestures to where Bucky’s still holding his left arm rigid by his side, “this isn’t going away. We’re going to have to deal with it, somehow, sooner or later.”

Bucky makes a small, terrified sound, and drapes himself over Steve’s chest like a puppet whose strings have been cut. His breathing hitches, there’s hot tears dampening Steve’s neck, and Steve realizes _this_ is what’s been going on for the last week, ever since Winter persuaded Bucky to replace the arm.

He should’ve noticed. He should’ve paid closer attention. He should’ve _known._

He shakes himself. _You can beat yourself over this later. Focus, Rogers._

“What are you afraid of, Buck?” he asks gently, smoothing his hands up and down Bucky’s back.

Bucky shrugs his right shoulder and says nothing.

“You’re _safe_ here. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to go to sleep, and I’m going to be right there, and when you wake up you’ll feel so much better-”

“I won’t,” Bucky says quietly.

“You won’t?” Steve repeats, confused.

Bucky sits up, looking slightly crazed. “I won’t wake up. I never did. I always passed out from the pain and woke up weeks later. Months! Every time they did anything with the arm! I don’t know, some times it was probably Winter taking over, some times it was definitely the Soldier, but I never just _woke up_ after that, and I don’t _want_ to go away, I don’t, there’s so much that we haven’t done yet, you promised me we would go to Yellowstone, and-” Bucky’s speeding up, his words mashing together to become almost unrecognizable, the accent coming through thick enough that anyone not from Depression era Brooklyn would be having trouble understanding him.

Steve does understand, and jumps in, “No. Bucky, _stop,”_ in his firmest Captain voice.

Bucky’s stunned into silence, huge eyes full of tears staring at Steve, desperation mixed with confusion.

 _“Nothing_ like that is going to happen this time. I promise. Do you trust me?”

“You can’t _promise_ that..!” Bucky says, sounding almost petulant.

“I can. Or, Winter can. It’ll be just like taking a nap. There will be no pain. Well, okay, there will probably be _some_ pain after, but nothing compared to what you’re describing, nothing compared to what you’re feeling even _now._ Bucky, we’ve got meds calibrated for supersoldier physiology, and Helen and Bruce and Tony have been working on this for _weeks._ They’ve got this. And if anything _does_ happen, Winter is there to help you. And so am I, and so is Nat. And JARVIS, and Peter, and all the others. You’re _safe._ I _promise.”_

“I...” Bucky starts, then drifts off.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Steve’s hand goes back to Bucky’s hair, trying to soothe.

“I _know_ it doesn’t make sense,” Bucky says very quietly, flushing in shame. “I _know._ But it’s still in my head, this fear. It’s like I can’t see _past_ the surgery, like it’s the end and there’s nothing after that. I _know_ it’s not going to be like Hydra, I _know_ you won’t let anything happen to me, I _know._ But I’m still terrified,” he finishes in a whisper.

Steve can’t help but hug Bucky tight, and Bucky goes with a grateful whimper. “I know, sweetheart. PTSD doesn’t make sense, and you’ve got 70 years of experience telling you it’s going to be horrible. I _know._ But we can’t just do nothing. You understand that, right?” He feels Bucky nod shakily. “Hey, you want to go to bed, make a blanket nest and take a nap?” He can feel Bucky quivering, exhausted from all the emotions rolling through him. There’s no response. “Okay, we’re going. Hold on,” Steve orders, and feels Bucky’s thighs and arm tighten around him obediently as he gets up from the sofa slowly. “Here we go. Hey, can you talk to me?”

“Talking t’Winter,” Bucky mumbles, slurring a little.

“He taking over?” Steve asks as they enter the bedroom, ready to untangle them if that’s the case.

“Nah. C’n we sl’p now?” Bucky’s slurring even more, and Steve would’ve been worried if he hadn't seen this before, Bucky just dropping like a fly after something difficult for him to process happens.

“Of course we can, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, and sets him gently on the bed. Bucky’s out like a light before his head even hits the pillow.

Steve spends a sleepless night just looking at him, the way his expression changes with every new dream, the way he instinctively moves to embrace Steve even though he's in pain.

He knows vengeance isn’t the answer, that it won’t fix Bucky, that Bucky doesn’t even need _fixing,_ but... It’s times like this when he realizes that he doesn’t just want to dismantle Hydra and bring them to justice. 

He wants to burn them to the ground and salt the ashes.

And he’s got a feeling Winter will help.


	6. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is their deal: Winter takes care of everything _before,_ so that Bucky’s got no time to freak out about all the procedures. Tony’s done everything to make this as comfortable as he possibly could, but even so - Winter can feel the nauseating anxiety radiating from where Bucky’s ensconced in his dark nook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be a _slightly_ evil person.
> 
> Shared headspace: **bold** for Winter, _italics_ for Bucky.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://kocuria.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/kocuria)

The day of the surgery dawns on Winter sitting at the edge of the roof, burritoed in his favorite blue blanket and mourning the fact that he can’t have his customary morning hot chocolate before anesthesia. The sky slowly goes from indigo to rose pink to gold, and the cold air makes him feel… vividly, insanely alive. There’s a newfound crystal clarity to everything, now that they’ve demarcated this line: today is the day they get rid of the last hold Hydra has on them. A shiver of excitement goes through Winter every time he _thinks_ about it.

Just a few more hours.

“Tell me a story,” Winter says to Steve as Stark runs through all his last minute check-ups. They’re seated on beanbags in the room they’ve been directed to as soon as they entered the medical floor this morning. It's more a lounge than a patient room - there’s no harsh lights, the bed he’ll eventually end up in looks more like a luxurious daybed than any hospital contraption, and a huge overstuffed sofa waits for when Steve inevitably crashes here waiting for Bucky to wake up.

This is their deal: Winter takes care of everything _before,_ so that Bucky’s got no time to freak out about all the procedures. Tony’s done everything to make this as comfortable as he possibly could - no lab coats, minimal medical equipment, no talking over Winter like he’s not there, no actions taken without explaining them beforehand and asking for his consent. Even so, Winter can feel the nauseating anxiety radiating from where Bucky’s ensconced in his dark nook, insistently going through the dance moves he wants to teach Steve now that he can actually _hear_ the music they’re dancing to.

(That was _their_ deal, Steve and Bucky’s. Winter can’t really say he understands the appeal of the wild flailing that Bucky calls _dancing,_ but the happiness radiating from him whenever a memory so much as brushes the edges of their consciousness is more than enough for Winter.)

“Steve!” Winter boops Steve’s nose with his right hand, and Steve startles from where he’s been watching the 3D holographic model of the new arm Tony’s manipulating. 

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, what?” Steve blinks at him sheepishly, and Winter can’t help but smile.

“Tell me a story.”

“Now?” Steve looks around them meaningfully - the nurses and engineers flitting in and out of the room to do Stark’s bidding, the IV Winter’s already connected to. Winter sighs.

 _“Yes,_ now. What, you got some better plans?” he teases, and feels the frayed edge where he doesn’t exactly sound as lighthearted as he’s been going for. 

Steve’s eyes go round. “No, of _course_ not, where else would-” he splutters.

 _“Relax,_ Steve. I’m kidding.” 

Steve grabs his hand and - after a quick look up to make sure it’s okay - kisses the knuckles anyway, in clear apology. 

Winter shivers.

It’s… not a _bad_ feeling. It’s _strange._ It should feel weird, but somehow, it doesn’t. The hand has a sense-memory of Steve doing this hundreds, thousands of times over the course of Bucky’s first life. 

He could get used to it. He could even grow to like it, he thinks. Especially if it’s always accompanied by this coy _look_ that Steve’s got, having spotted Winter fighting a blush.

 **Blushing. What have we been reduced to now. Bucky.** **_Why._ **

Bucky just cackles gleefully and says nothing.

Winter gives himself a little pat on the back. Bucky’s _okay._ It’s all going according to plan.

He opens the eyes he didn’t notice closing and finds Steve’s smirk gone soft around the edges. Winter’s got words for these things now, the things he sees in Steve’s eyes. Fondness. Devotion. Adoration. 

They’re good words, and Winter didn’t know the feelings they correspond to until Bucky started _showing_ him. Winter didn’t know they were capable of _so many shades_ of vibrant reds and violets.

“A story, Steve,” Winter reminds him, and Steve shakes off his daze.

“What would you like to hear about?” he asks.

“Tell me about dancing,” Winter answers immediately, and knows it’s the right choice by how Steve breaks out in helpless, delighted laughter.

“You’re going to be there,” Winter makes sure, undressing efficiently. He has no issue with people seeing their body, not unless they try to _touch_ it, but Tony took one look and ushered everyone out. It’s just Steve, who’s visibly torn between open admiration and even more open worry.

The left shoulder isn’t a pretty sight, all bruised and swollen. Winter angles it away, and Steve’s eyes guiltily snap up to his face.

“Of _course_ I’m going to be there. I’m going to be right where Helen showed us, holding your hand the whole time. I’m not leaving your side for even a second,” Steve promises solemnly.

Thing is, the arm has to respond to their conscious thought. They need to wake them up mid-surgery to check whether the neural interface works the way it’s supposed to.

Thing is, both Winter and Bucky have rather horrific memories of waking up strapped to an operating table mid-procedure.

Thing is, they’ve never had working anesthesia - this sensation’s more like a peculiar tingle rather than searing pain as neuron after neuron gets re-wired.

They’ve never had Stark blabbering about how he’ll sneakily install ridiculous little upgrades while they’re not looking. 

They’ve never had Steve there to smile at them and pet their hair soothingly when it all _does_ become too much and tears start streaming down their face.

It’s not optimal... but it’s _bearable._

**Bucky?**

There’s a wordless grumble coming from… somewhere. The anesthesia is making both of them woozy, kind of like the sensation of having drunk too much too fast - not that Winter’s ever experienced it himself, having sniffed at Asgardian mead and decided that _nope,_ he’s sticking to his strawberry smoothie, thank you very much.

**Bucky.**

A feeling of covers being pulled over one’s head to keep off the light.

Winter fights off a giggle. **Bucky!**

_Five more minutes, Stevie._

Winter _does_ giggle. He feels giddy. **Bucky, come on, it’s done!**

He can sense Bucky becoming a bit more lucid. _It’s done?_

**It’s done.**

_And I’m still here._

**Yes, you are. We both are. Come on!**

He can feel Bucky inching closer, close enough to tentatively touch the sensations coming from _outside._

 _It_ is _done. Can you feel it?_

**Feel what?**

_This, here. Touch_ here.

**It’s… nothing?**

_Exactly. There’s_ nothing.

Winter feels a surge of alarm. **What’s wrong, what did they miss?**

 _That’s the thing, Winter. They didn’t miss anything. Do you feel this,_ here?

**I- what am I looking for?**

_Can you move it?_

**I. Think I can?** Winter tries. **Yes, I can. What did I just do, what** ** _was_** **that?**

_That’s your new arm, Winter._

**_Our_ ** **new arm. Wait, what? Why does it feel so- so- what-**

_Hey, hey, calm down. Everything’s fine._

**It’s NOT FINE! Why does it feel so** **_light,_ ** **what** **_is_ ** **this?!**

 _It_ is _fine, I promise._

**I- what?**

_Remember when I told you you don’t know what it’s like not to be in pain all the time?_

**Yes..?**

_This. This is what it feels like._

Winter tries to move around a little. It’s like their left side is suddenly light as air and sort of… cool to the touch? It’s...

 **… It’s** **_weird._ **

Bucky giggles. _Yeah, I thought it might be. Go on, try it out._

Winter prods at it a little more, tentative and wary.

_It’s not gonna bite you, come on!_

**I. I know? But it’s. It’s so** **_strange._ **

_I know._ Bucky’s voice is sympathetic, for all that there’s still amusement underlying his words. _You’ll get used to it._

Winter shakes himself off, rather like a wet dog, trying to get rid of the sheer _bizarreness_ of the sensation.

 _You going to be okay here if I take over?_ Bucky asks, concern finally bleeding through.

Winter takes a moment to evaluate. **I think so? This is going to be… an adjustment, but it’s not** **_bad?_ ** **I think?**

 _It’s not, I promise. It’s the way it’s_ supposed _to feel. Give it a second._

**Okay.**

_Okay?_

**Okay. Yeah, I’m good. Go wake Steve up, he’s been drooling on our thigh all night.**

Bucky comes closer still, then cackles. _Oh my god, he_ has!

Winter shudders. **Yeah.**

 _Oh god, I’m never letting him live it down, I swear._ Bucky’s laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing.

 **Yeah, you better,** Winter mutters, disgruntled.

_Aww, come on. He loves us._

**Why do you** **_think_ ** **we haven’t moved?** Winter asks testily.

Bucky finally calms down a little, though he’s still smiling so wide it must show _outside._

_You did well, Winter._

Winter preens.

_I’m gonna go?_

**Go, go. I’m… tired.**

Bucky stops in his tracks. _Oh god, I didn’t even think. How_ are _you?_

**It was… a lot. Exhausted? I’d kind of like to sleep for a week now.**

_Thank you._ Thank you _for doing this._

**You don’t need to-**

_No, wait. I haven’t thanked you, not_ once _in all of this. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be a blubbering catatonic mess._

**It’s okay, Bucky. It’s what I’m here for.**

_No, it’s not! You’re here because you’re_ you, _you’re your own person, you don’t need a_ reason _to be here. And I’ve been taking you for granted. I’m_ sorry.

**Bucky, you really don’t need to-**

_Shut up, I’m hugging you._

**I- okay?**

There’s a sensation of a lithe body colliding with him, Bucky doing his best to envelop Winter for all that he’s half his size.

_Thank you. I don’t say it enough._

Winter relaxes into the embrace, which just makes Bucky hug him tighter. Winter laughs, breathless. 

**You’re welcome, Bucky.**

_I couldn’t have done it without you._

**No,** **_I_ ** **couldn’t have done it without** **_you,_ **Winter replies, suddenly feeling a little choked up.

 _Then I guess we’re even?_ Bucky asks, stepping back, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Winter sniffles. **Yeah, we are.** He shakes his head to clear it. **Go, there’s someone waiting to see you.**

Bucky looks at him in concern. _You sure you’re gonna be okay?_

**Of course I am. I just need to… recharge for a while.**

Bucky still hesitates. 

**Go, take over. I’m good.**

_If you’re sure…_

**I am. Go.**

Bucky throws him a brilliant grin, then focuses his attention outwards, _outside._ Winter sighs and curls himself into a perfect replica of his favorite armchair and closes his eyes.

He drifts off smiling at the distant feeling of Bucky laughing as Steve kisses their hands - both of them, the right one _and_ the left.

Somewhere deep down - far, far deeper than either of them ever goes - a shadow stirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! 🙃  
>   
>   
> 


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